Trying to Forget
by BleuFlyinKittensTimesInfinty
Summary: France has amnesia, and forgets everything that was him and Canada. How will Canada cope?
1. Who are you?

I was running as swiftly as my feet could carry me, hoping that I would be able to outrun the sadness threatening to crush down on me. I collapsed in the middle of a small clearing, breathing hard, my heartbeat throbbing word through my mind:

"Who are you?"

"Who are you?"

"Who are you?"

I know it wouldn't be his fault. I'm just lucky he survived. But the gut wrenching pain that I felt when he turned his vibrant blue eyes, foggy from being asleep for seven weeks, on me with confusion, was almost too much to handle. Those hands reaching toward Arthur.

"Angleterre..."

Those hands that held mine so tenderly, those eye, gazing at me brimming with love. How he curved around me when we made love. The smile froze on my face, masking the pain that shot through me. Alfred tried to reassure me in his own way.

"Ah, don't feel too bad, bro. He might never recover his memories, and you can focus on someone else"

But although my brother's unconventional assistance did more harm than good, I was touched by his concern. I glanced back over to Francois. I don't know why I did it, but why did the God above force me to witness the man I loved crying in the arms of another? An ex for that matter?

I cast my eyes downward, the sinking feeling in my gut growing. Francois must be stuck in the past. where he and Arthur were still friends and lovers. I swallowed hard. This pain was growing to being unbearable. Forcing back tears and trying to keep a steady pace, I left. Once I left that bleak, depressing place, I ran.

I ran away from the heartbreak, already thrusting it's dagger into my chest. I ran away from the memories, flashing across my vision. I ran away from the love that no longer shined for me. I ran away from him. He who had been my protector and savior. He who had remembered me above all else. He who made me feel as though I could make the world know me, when I saw the smile he reserved solely for me.

As I reached the clearing, one question pounded in my head

Why was it him? The one person that remembered me as I am.

I couldn't hold back any longer, and I let the tears flow, my emotions raw and unstable. A shuddering scream erupted from my chest, and I wrapped my arms around myself. I heard crunching behind me, and a masculine voice, not the one I prayed for, but one I wanted to hear nonetheless said tentatively

"Matthew?"

I picked my head up and gazed brokenly at Feliciano. My body was shuddering both from my sobs dying down, and the sharp October weather. He came over and wrapped an arm around my shoulders, squeezing gently.

"_Mio amico_, I know it hurts, but amnesia isn't forever."

I couldn't say anything to him, I just leaned into him, and tried to regain control over myself. Feliciano was willing to just sit with me, and let me gather myself before gently guiding me to my feet and head to back to civilization.

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So, I'm wondering if this should be a chaptered fic. Your thoughts?


	2. Papa?

Feliciano brought me back to the hospital. Why he would do that, I'm not sure on, but when we got back into the "Intensive Care" ward, I heard no more voices.

Nothing but the steady beeping of a heart monitor. Feli gently pushed me in the general direction of Francois' room. I glanced back at him, watching as he gave me a jaunty thumbs up, and took off.

My jaw dropped slightly, and my brows knit together. Why would he just leave me here to deal with this? What would he have done if Ludwig lost every single memory of him? I was hurt. My only friend was leaving me to do this alone.

I swallowed hard. I didn't want to go back in there and face more blind ignorance. Even though I was sure by now that someone would have at least informed him of the name of the country that ran out of his room with tears flowing out of his eyes.

But that's a far stretch.

I knocked on the door, and was greeted by his familiar lilting voice.

"Qui est la?"

"It's Matthew. May I come in?" I asked quietly.

"Of course, mon petit."

Already I was filled with sadness. Those words only ever passed his lips when I was still his colony. I crept into his room, to find him propped up in a chair next to the window. I took in his appearance.

Francois is a very loving man, but he also loves himself a bit too much, so seeing him in this state of being was a bit of a shock.

His normally beautifully put together hair was disheveled and messy. He was wearing the spotted hospital night clothes, although if he had any say in it, they would be tasteful and classy. Or nothing. his normally dancing, mischievous eyes were dull and flat.

"Mon petit, come give Papa a hug. He so needs it from his little one." I was wrong when I came in also, his voice was as lackluster as his appearance. Another first.

I pressed my lips together, trying to hold my emotions in, so as not to shock him. I wanted him to remember us on his own, not because I forced him to. I crossed the room to embrace him quickly, and let go just as quick.

I wanted so much more from those arms, but I knew that nothing I could do now would give me the familiar tender embraces that I so missed. Francois obviously noticed my reluctance to touch him, and I saw a small shadow of hurt cross his eyes.

"Mon petit, did Papa do something wrong?"

I shook my head quickly, not trusting myself to speak. I wanted so badly to brace my hands on his shoulders and kiss his fears away, but I couldn't do that. I felt my eyes filling with tears, and I pressed a hand to my mouth. I wanted desperately to touch his soft skin, and feel his warm breath in my ear reassuring me that everything was going to be alright, that nothing had changed, that he still loved me with all of his heart.

But the darkest part of me, the part that was always whispering the pessimistic thoughts crept into my ear; _If he still thinks that you're his colony, he still thinks that he and England are still together._

Oh, God. No. Him just not remembering me is heart wrenching enough. Not let him be stolen by England again.

* * *

So here's chapter two! Thoughts?


	3. Crushed by the memories

Breathing deeply, I finally spoke to him. Softly, my voice wavering slightly, giving away the emotions trying to crash to the surface,  
"I'm glad you're awake… Papa." God that word was difficult to say. "I'll come visit again tomorrow."

I think he and I both knew that wasn't the case. I turned quickly so that I wouldn't have to gaze into those beautiful sapphire eyes anymore, and I unsteadily walked out of the room. Shutting the door gently, so that the only sound made was the small _snick_ of the tongue sliding back into place, I saw Francois still staring at me through the window. I knew my distance hurt him. But I knew that if I didn't distance myself from him, I wouldn't be able to live through this.

I had to leave this country. I couldn't stay here, not when our memories were shadows creeping along the buildings.

I walked slowly, numbly along the streets. I passed a park bench. The one that Francois had called me out to in the middle of a rain storm to, to kiss me and give me a single red rose. I passed a church. The one where Francois had dragged me to, to celebrate his Christmas mass. He had clasped my hand and sung the hymns with such a clear, beautiful voice that I almost believed that I had one of Heaven's own angels standing next to me. I passed a small brook. The one where he serenaded me under the light of a blue moon, and where we made sweet sensual love for the first time.

All of these beautiful memories. All such tender moments. All that he wouldn't remember.

The crushing pain in my chest almost exploded. I fell backwards against a brick building, brought my knees to my chest, and I wept.

All of the anguish and the pain that I was feeling burst through it's dam, and I couldn't do anything to control it. Tears rolled steadily down my face, until I was bled dry. All I could do was sob dryly.

I don't know how long I sat there, trying to regain control over myself, but when I did, it was twilight. This time of day was always beautiful in Paris. Francois and I would always sit and watch the sunset with a bottle of wine between us. Never speaking, just sitting in comfortable silence, watching the beauty of nature falling asleep.

And that is just what I did. I sat and watched the day die. I thought about all of the memories and experiences that I had with Francois, and tried not to dwell on the fact that I might never have that again.

* * *

I know, this chapter is a bit shorter, but I have a plan for the next. And I should have done this, but to RIVILvFv: You rock. :3 Thank you.

Thoughts on this one?


	4. Finally home

The next morning I got on the first flight back to my home. I knew that my small Quebec cabin wouldn't be much better in healing my memories, as there had been so many made there as well, but at least it would be better than staying in Paris.

Boarding the plane, and sitting alone, I was painfully reminded that's exactly what I was. I was so alone in the world. I gazed out the window at the people scurrying about, living their everyday lives, knowing that they have at least one person in their lives that they could go to if they were sad or scared.

I never really had that until I had Francois. He made me feel remembered and he made sure to remind me every time I was with him that he loved me and that he was there for me. Even at the world meetings.

I smiled slightly. We always sat so far apart because we were seated where we are in the world. But even when there was bickering and tempers were high, he would always catch my eye, and we would have a moment of silent communication, him letting me know that my opinion wasn't forgotten by all.

As the plane took off, I watched the clouds go by. I was so used to constantly getting on and off planes, that the motion of it made me realize that I hadn't slept since Francois woke up. The calming, constant motion lulled me off to sleep just as the pilot was telling us to enjoy our flight.

X X X

I awoke from a restless sleep, full of dreams about Francois, just as we landed. The familiar beautiful sight of my home relaxed me. Stretching luxuriously, and strangely happy, I got off the plane, and took in the cool, crisp Canadian air.

The drive home was just as refreshing. It felt good to be home. Yes, I still missed Francois, and yes, we did have memories here, but none were as resounding. And when I was home, I was used to missing him.

Finally home, I dropped my keys onto the side table, and sighed, closing my eyes. I loved being home. I was perfectly at ease, and I was happy.

"Kuma! I'm home!"

I hated not being able to take him with me to meetings. But bringing a polar bear onto a plane with me would raise way to many questions. I heard him before I saw him. Grumbling under his breath and his nails clicking on the floor.

I scooped him up, and hugged him tight. I buried my face into his ruff and breathed in the musky scent that came with being a bear. He squirmed in my arms, and I set him down. That embrace was something I really needed.

My stomach rumbled and I looked down at the bear sitting on his haunches at my feet.

"Hungry?"

He nodded, and led the way into the kitchen. I was finally home, and Francois was finally out of my mind. For now.


	5. Who's there?

A few weeks later, I was cooking a good strong dinner for Kuma and I.

I had finally sat down at the table with Kuma after cooking a large stack of pancakes and some bacon. Kuma had mowed right into his plate, but I took my time digging in. My heart still hurt, and I was still trying not to start thinking again.

Until a knock came at the door, making me jump halfway out of my seat. I glanced at Kuma, who was still eating. We weren't expecting any visitors today.

I breathed out deeply, trying to calm myself, and I peeked out the window to see who it was.

My heart stopped when I saw that it was Francois.

A million thoughts ran across my brain. He was here? Now? Why? What was he doing out of the hospital so early?

Well, I could answer that one. Francois hated being in the hospital at any given time, and never went. He probably coerced the nurses into signing him out early. But why would he come here?

Why now?

I was doing so well. For weeks. Weeks! Why did he need to tear these wounds out now?

"Mattieu. 'Ow are you mon amour?" He was shivering on my doorstep. The Canadian cold was not reacting well to him. But then, the cold never sat well with him.

"I'm fine, Francois. Come in, and get warm. Your teeth are chattering." I said quietly, not meeting his eyes.

I led the way into my living room, to sit him in front of the fire. "I'll go get you a nice, hot mug of coffee."

"Who's here?" Kuma asked, and I braced my hands on the counter, trying to control myself.

"Francois." I said simply. I took a deep breath, and poured the coffee, strong and sweet, just the way Francois likes it.

"Here, drink this. It'll help warm you." I said, giving the mug to him.

He curled his hands around it, and I had a flash of a memory of those hands cupping mine so gently, that I breathed in sharply.

His azalea blue eyes turned towards me questioningly. But they immediately clouded when they caught mine. I felt tears welling up in my violet ones, and I whisked them away quickly. I didn't want him questioning me too much.

"Mattieu? Are you okay?"

"Dust in my eye." I replied.

Francois sighed heavily, setting his coffee down on the brick fireplace. "Mattieu, I must talk with you."

_Oh God._

"Angleterre told me that him and I aren't together, and Alfred told me that I needed to talk to you. What happened, mon petit?"

My eyes were steadily getting wider, and I burst out, "You're the one that wanted to talk to me!"

Francois cast his eyes downward, "Alfred told me that you and I had been together."


End file.
